Equilibrium
by DoodOfDark
Summary: Five year time-skip, Kidd-centric. A simple story about Shibusen and the rites of passage of its students. But when friendship becomes something more and old enemies resurface, who'll stay sane? Alive? First fic ever. KidxMaka, StarxTsu, possibly others?
1. Father and Son time, that nameless thing

AN: First fic feels kinda surreal. Semi AU, Five year time skip. Kidd-centric. All of the kids are 17-19 now, raging hormones ftw. Main pairing will be Kidd/Maka, I'll throw in a bit more along the way. Will contain violence, adult themes, and the like later on, so rated M to be safe.

Key:

"Symmetry" -Dialogue

'Symmetry' -Thoughts

Symmetry -Attack/technique names

**"Symmetry"** -Spoken attack/technique names

Disclaimer: Everything on this page and all others to come are the byproduct of Atsushi Okubo.

So no, I don't own Soul Eater

Or America

Or the world

Yet.

* * *

_Death_

The occasional grunt, rush of air, meeting of blows, were all music.

_What was it, exactly?_

In B minor of course; thinking music.

_Death was absolute_

A light sheen of sweat covered the young Shinigami's half-naked body, a leg lashed out, hoping to gain purchase of his opponent's ribs.

_It was merciful_

His opponent was not a normal one, however. The blow connected with little to no effect. Kidd cringed. A monstrous white hand swiped at him.

_Yet cruel_

Citrate eyes flashed with oppritunity. He deftly dodged the hand, grabbing his adversary's arm and using his momentum against him with a simple judo-esque toss. At the apex of the toss, however, Death the Kid sent another kick at his opponent, this one serious.

_Death even had a sense of humor, if it's receiver still had enough breath to laugh_

A black streak ricocheted off of his foot and dug a trench into the ground, about ten meters in length, Kidd surmised. A few of the many crosses adorning the room were uprooted and/or broken.

_You couldn't cheat Death, not at its own game_

The figure stood to his full length, brushing dirt from its seemingly ethereal form. His stark white mask seemed to match the triad of stripes on his son's head, the middle one fully wrapped around the uniform cut of black hair.

_It had been playing since the beginning of time, making rules, exceptions, keeping score_

" Oh, I see one of the cute stripes on my little son's hair has grown, ne?" Shinigami-sama, Grip Reaper, Death Himself cocked his head to a side, as a dog might. " Your progression with the **Lines of Sanzu** is going along handsomely, son.", an index finger nearly the size of Kidd's head pointed to the side. " You no longer require **BREW's** assistance?" It was more of a statement than a question, the Demon Tool having been abandoned by the younger Death two days ago, out of the eight they had been continuously fighting.

_The only way to play the game was to lose_

" Hai, Chichiue. Without BREW, sustaining a single **Line of Sanzu** for a few days seems to be child's play now. Of course while using Elizabeth and Patricia, it may be a bit more taxing." He nodded slowly, as if complying with himself.

_Of course one could always take their chances with the game of Life_

Death the elder clapped, the action seemingly comical with his huge hands. " Nyo, I see..." The air instantly changed, Kidd could've sworn that he could see his breath, as if walking outside on a nippy morning.

_But Life was a long and complicated game, many who played had little to no choice in the matter_

The eyeholes in Shinigami-sama's mask shifted into triangular slits, his voice rumbling with promises of pain. On Kidd's part, an effort was taken not to shiver. The dark form of Father Death tensed as he spoke. "Let's get serious, then." Then he vanished. Kidd blinked.

_Many players of Life gladly played Death when given the chance_

There was a roar of "**SHINIGAMI CHOP**!". Maka looked up from a book she was reading in the apartment she and Soul still shared. Stein almost managed to drop his cigarette from his mouth, before continuing a supplementary lesson with a few unfortunate students. Black Star felt a wave of 'big' wash over him and wobbled slightly. Then completed his hundredth two-finger push-up. And Kidd? He smirked.

_In addition to being a game, Death was also a very lucrative business_

Four large tendrils of shadow emerged from his body, shadows of macabre dancing at his feet.

_Some animals, such as scavengers and predators lived off of Death's blessing_

A single Shinigami Skull Arm quickly latched to one of the many black crosses behind Kidd, pulling him back, and out of the Shinigami Chop's way. Shinigami-sama's oversized hand crashed into the earth, causing a crater of unholy size and throwing up a haze of debris and dirt, obscuring both of the Deaths' vision.

_Some animals, such as gangsters, dictators, and morticians, did the same_

Tension was heavy in the air as both of the Death Gods considered their next move. A Skull Arm lashed out at Shibusen's headmaster, ripping out a small chunk of his shadowy side. The opening he had been waiting for. "If your attack when in a situation of stealth will give away your location..." In the span of a fragment of a second, Shinigami-sama's arm extended and warped, then cracked like a whip, his fist flying in the direction of the attack. The blow connected solidly. "Then what you do is simple; don't attack."

_At the end, though, Death has the highest profit_

Grim Reaper prepared to give a patronizing lecture to the shape that flew out of the haze. With a blink, he decided not to. Beelzebub lacked ears, after all. A smooth trick, he had to admit.

_All of his investors ended up paying with their lives_

A malevolent beam of black light shot at him, burning the air surrounding it with a crackle of heat. The eyeholes widdened With the flick of a wrist and a hand the size of a small hippo, Shinigami-sama deflected the attack. Barely. The beam of..._death _went along it's way, the burning air in it's path of flight forming small skull-like wisps. Shinigami-sama craned his head slightly and peered at his arm. The arc of purple lightning traveling about it tingled. No doubt enough amps to fry a human's blood. He was far from human, as his son knew.

_As was Death_

" Ne?" The single syllable, long and drawn out, cut through the silence. " Kidd-kun decided to use _that _attack on me? My son is really cutthroat, nyo?"

Kidd scoffed and folded his arms in front of his chest, the two Shinigami dispelling the dust cloud around them with a small 'shrug' of wavelength. "When dealing with you, Chichiue, I have no choice. If I'm to remove your mask by today"--

"Why today, Kidd-kun?" The Shinigami inquired, despite having already known the answer.

Death the younger gave his father a derisively flat stare. "Today is the eighth day of this hell you call training." Kidd could've sworn he felt a smile behind that mask.

"Sou ka. Will you be okay to fight after using _that_ move?"

Despite himself, Kidd threw a glance to his right hand. The fingers he had used to discharge the blast, index and middle, were charred and bloody, slightly and very much so, respectively.

Death the Kid nodded and gave a status report. "With the middle **Line of Sanzu** connected, _it_ doesn't take as large of a toll on my soul as usual, and though its sheer force and inertia cause minor burns and tears on its medium of discharge, my fingers in this case, the Shinigami Skin keeps damage to a minimum. This is a great improvement from where attempting to shoot _it _off using my palm blew my arm off. The reattachment was an easy one, but painful nonetheless." He blinked once, golden eyes sharp.

Shinigami glowed with pride. Developing a new Shinigami Technique. His son was something else. "Very well then. Let's continue." A yellow, semi-transparent skull-shaped plate slammed down on Kidd without preamble. He gasped in surprise, the air knocked from his lungs, ground at his feet cracking. Correction; cracked. His feet dug into the earth, accordingly. He managed to remain upright though, using his enormous leg strength and sheer force of will. He dug his heels into the ground, and in a flash of motion, his father's shield was decimated. Cut into fourths, the spent shield politely faded from existence.

Adorning the gunslinger's forearms were small variants of the Skull Shield, a little over a yard in length. The edges of the lower, three-pronged skull were sharp as the sharpest of blades, silently cutting through the air. Again, the older Shinigami felt that swell of pride. Managing to put his own variant on an old Shinigami Technique. Once more, his son was something else.

Meanwhile, the son in question glanced around wildly, searching for his father. ' In front, behind, left, right? Below?' He smiled at that; Chichiue wasn't Sid. The hairs on his neck rose. 'Above.' An arm rose just in time to block a gout of searing blue flame, the product of one of his father's Jets. 'Just protect the face, the eyes', he told himself; calm despite the azure inferno dancing around his body. 'The Shinigami Skin will do it's job. Since I'm a Shinigami, burns of first and second degree don't faze me.' With his opposite arm, Kidd slashed at his airborne father, forcing him to remove the flame as he moved out of swiping range.

Surprising them both, Kidd pursued his father into the sky. They traded blows momentarily, a kick, a chop, a slash, before Shinigami-sama managed to get a hold of his son's foot and unceremoniously chuck him across the sky. 'Why does this room have a sky, anyway?' Beelzebub bid its master's silent call and met Kidd's feet. It took a moment for him to adjust, the Shinigami youth floating shakily.

His father hovered a bit a distance away. "Is now the time to lounge around, Kidd-kun? Spring Break is nearly over.", he taunted. "Liz-chan and Patti-chan are supposedly throwing a big pool party at the Gallow's Mansion. I know you'd be devastated to miss Maka-chan in a bathing suit. She's starting to bud into quite the young woman, no?" He leaned to a side, dodging a dangerous-looking Tornado Flip from Beelzebub.

Kidd followed soon after. "C'mon, Kidd-kun," he dodged a kick, followed by a spinning chop. "the son of Shinigami-sama and the daughter of Death Scythe would make a good couple, no?" A roundhouse kick with enough force to break a grown man's neck was ducked. " In about ten years from now, I'll have small grandchildren with cute little stripes and pigtails." A double spin kick was blocked, each foot making a dull thud on Shinigami-sama's hands and small shockwaves of force. "Look at that," he drawled. " the **Shinigami Skin** isn't resistant to blushing."

That was Kidd's limit. "**SHINIGAMI CHOP**!" A shadowy pitch-black silhouette looking vaguely like one of Shinigami-sama's hands covered Kidd hand and swung at his father's face. Grim Reaper's back was parallel to the earth, their descent to the earth about a yard away. There was no escape. If present, Black Star would say, "You're fucked, Shinigami-sama....with all due respect." The faux hand collided with Shinigami-sama's Skull Shield, the defense shattering instantly. The resulting shockwave kicked up a buffeting wind, blowing even more of the black crosses crooked. Grudgingly, Shinigami-sama's form rocketed into the ground. The crater created was bigger than Kidd had anticipated. Not quite as big as Chichiue's, but getting there.

Kidd deftly landed on his feet, the dust settling. His father rose from the crater a bit shakily. There was a pause of silence as Kidd took the Stance of Sin, preparing to go at it once more. " At ease, Kidd-kun." Chichiue's voice was back to the chipper and benevolent headmaster's. "You win." Kidd slid out of his stance, slightly confused. A resounding crack answered his question, Shinigami-sama's bone white mask cracking perfectly down the middle. 'Perfectly.'

The halves silently dropped to the ground. "Wheeew. We should do this more often, Kidd-kun; an old man needs to stay in shape." He nonchalantly reached for another mask, hidden inside his cloak.

"You're fine, Chichiue." Kidd pretended not to notice the subtle labored breaths his father produced. Shinigami-sama ignored the shudder of his son's soul as the white band encompassing Kidd's head receded. Pride was a fickle thing. Father and son locked eyes for a moment, words going unspoken, but understood. The two pairs of golden optics glinted like ancient treasure. Then the elder Death put the new mask on his face. The dull black pits were hardly a sufficient substitute.

"You should get moving, Kidd-kun," The warm and caring voice gently pulled Kidd from his thoughts. "your friends are waiting."

"Indeed they are, Chichiue." Kidd's arms extended in unison as he channeled his soul wavelength. They moved as one in strange, liquid movements, arcane signs of power. Then, Death the Kid vanished.

A way's away, a black shoe stepped seemingly from nowhere, a smile adorning the handsome weapon's face. In addition, a neatly cut goatee graced the face as well, the same blood-red color as the middle-aged man's hair. Death Scythe chuckled at his meister's form, then lidded his hues. "He sure is your son, Shinigami-sama."

A masked head cocked to a side, mere feet away from the formerly named Spirit. "What is that supposed to mean, Spirit-kun?"

Onyx eyes flew open. The weapon, _the _weapon cringed with fear. 'When did he get there?' "Shi-shi-shinigami--" A moment of unaccountable violence later, Spirit was laid out on the ground, a decisive dent adorning his head.

"Eavesdrop on my father-son time, and I'll hit you with my **Direct Noggin Shinigami Chop**!" A fist shook at the Death Scythe before pausing mid-shake. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"

Without the permission of Shinigami-sama himself, one could not leave nor enter the Death Room. General knowledge. Spirit pointed a finger a hundred yards off or so, comical bruise gone. "That."

Where a cloud-and-sky background once was, there was Death city, in the shape of a rather large hole. Around the hole, a black skull was audaciously stamped, purple lightning dancing about the skull's shape. Shinigami-sama was silent, Spirit's cue to continue. " It looks exactly the same on the outside, instead you're right outside of Shibusen and looking into here. That...lightning nearly fried my wavelength whenever I got close to the entrance; I managed to get in in weapon form, though." The Shinigami was still silent. Spirit was about to add a pinch of constructive criticism when he was cut off.

"Sugoi...Kidd-kun should really give that thing a name."

Death Scythe was lost. Shouldn't Shinigami-sama be angry, outraged? "Nani?"

Shinigami-sama's head turned slowly to his partner, as if he had forgotten he were there. "Huh?" Spirit noticed and recalled this habit. The Grim Reaper was in deep thought. "Perhaps we should discuss this over a cup of tea?"

* * *

AN: And there's chapter one. Please R&R, constructive criticism will be accepted and learned from, while flames such as "Omg u suk Black Star is beast Kids weak", will just be laughed at. Seriously, don't waste your time. Chapter two will be more filler-ish, focusing on fleshing out more characters and describing how they've grown over the time skip.

By the way, this is based off of the manga. The anime went to hell halfway through, and the sharp contrast between to two is easily noticeable. Keep that in mind.

Chop-chop, off to the review box. If I don't get eight reviews, Sid will revive. Or undie. Or... whatever he does at this point.


	2. Of Meisters and Weapons, part one

AN: Five reviews. Joy. That's better than nothing. This, by the way...-Prods a fresh corpse with a foot.- Is my Beta, Kira-the-obsessed. She's an awesome person. Without her, my fic would be nothing more than a Dung Beetle ball. And we all know what Dung Beetle balls are made out of. I wanted to take the time to address a couple of the reviews I received.

**RyuOokamiMaru: **Yes, I am following the manga. The anime has, in my opinion, gone to hell in a Barney suit. I'm not sure how one would visualize that, and I'm not going to give myself a migraine by trying to.  
**Kira-the-obsessed: **-Prods the body again.- You've learned your lesson.

Other reviewers who were happy that this will fic will indeed circle over Kidd and Maka, you might have a few more chapters to wait. This one,ended up looking like its gonna be a biggun', so I split it in half. As consolation, in the next chapter, I'll toss in a juicy KidxMaka flashback. Full of fluff and the like. Don't thank me for writing. Thank yourself for reading.

OMFGWARNING: There will be a **hint of lime** in this chapter between a certain Ninja and his biggest fan. You have been warned. Also, a few more pairings are hinted as you move along. OMFGWARNINGEND.

Incidentally, I'm gonna try to keep chapters at a constant rate of about 3k words. Some may stretch a bit farther. We'll see.

Key:

"Symmetry" -Dialogue

'Symmetry' -Thoughts

Symmetry -Attack/technique names

**"Symmetry"** -Spoken attack/technique names

The Hoshizuka was a mansion. After his eighteen birthday, Black Star received a great sum of money as inheritance. For a band of ninja-who-would-do-anything-for-money-turned-soul-hungry-demons, his clan was loaded. Then again, it was probably because they were a band of ninja-who-would-do-anything-for-money-turned-soul-hungry-demons. Out of a strange mixture of duty and spontaneity, he split the money in two. The first half went to rectifying the Hoshizuka. It was a huge edifice, sprawling and large, random spikes and stars sticking out of random places. The building housed a dojo and an artificial hot spring, and that was only the first floor. In terms of grandeur, it was second only to the Gallow's Mansion. Grandeur. That word sounded big. He liked that. The other half of the money went to a less self-centered cause.

In short, the cash went to supporting each and every village, town, or city the Hoshi Clan had pillaged, raped, or destroyed. One would think that between the three-digit amount of locations that the money would be stretched a bit thin. One would be wrong. Like it had been mentioned before, the Hoshi were loaded. All of the formerly wronged places had prospered, The Village of Shin being on in particular. It had become a tourist resort, selling a strange signature with the word "BLACK" coupled with a five-point star merging with the 'A'. Where the village deity's likeness once stood there was a sculpture. It had a boy sitting lotus-style, a stick slamming into his head. Through the blood running down his head, the boy smiled brightly. It was Black Star. The village's new deity. Looked like he was finally becoming a god.

A god fighting a fickle battle with sleep. The sun laughed. Star yawned, long and loud. Things were boring when he wasn't doing them. And at the moment, he was straining to wake up. He felt a sting of pity for the small people as he wiped a bit of sleep from his eyes. They must be bored out of their minds. It was time to give them a show. He built a small amount of tension in his body and sprang to his feet, not quite sure how he got on the floor. Huh. His 'bigness' must have been too much for the futon to handle.

The shinobi did a few exercises to get his blood flowing; crunches, reverse crunches, squats. During his second rep of one hundred two-fingered push-ups, a wave of 'big; slammed into him like an invisible gorilla's fist, knocking the air from him; the only person he knew that could make 'big' that big was Shinigami-sama. He blinked. Had the Grim Reaper spilled coffee on himself or something? As long as it didn't bother the Blade Meister's limelight, it was fine. Finishing the last push-up, he briefly wondered what Shinigami-sama did with all the autographs he gave him.

A smell hit his nose, freezing him instantly. Food. Tsubaki. Two of his favorite things. He began a steady walk to the door, chiseled muscles shifting effortlessly.

The Demon Weapon Tsubaki hummed a pleasant tune to herself as she cooked. 'Does he like pickles for breakfast?' She smiled, the humble twitch of lips as easy to miss as the subtle scent of the flower she was named after. 'If it's edible, he'll eat it.' She put the vegetable aside on a separate dish, and started on an omelet. She failed to notice the bush of azure hair behind her.

Strong arms wrapped around the female's waist and pulled her against the ninja's body, solid, warm. Tsubaki was startled and gasped lightly. She hadn't even felt his presence; with a soul as large as his ego, it was a difficult task. 'When did he...'

She gasped again as a pair of lips brushed the outer lobe of her ear in a whisper. "**Law of the Assassin **one: Cloak yourself in darkness. Still your breath, make a path to your enemy." He had grown a bit taller than she much to his delight.

"Black Star, the foo..ah!" He set a kiss behind her ear, her weak spot. Warm butterflies fluttered about her stomach, churning the beginnings of what made her a woman.

"**Law of the Assassin** two: Know your enemy. Target weak points. Predict their movements." A hand that moved to futilely push the ninja away was easily captured.

Tsubaki tried in vain to explain that she was still cooking. Her words just became more and more inarticulate. A trail of kisses moved down the Weapon's neck, leaving white-hot rapture in its wake.

"**Law of the Assassin **three: Before your enemy becomes aware of your presence, defeat it."

She felt him now.

He was big.

Of course he was.

His hands parted at her waist, one traveling north, the other southbound. What he did next made her knees buckle.

The Meister and Weapon went to the ground in a tangle of limbs, moans and discarded clothing.

The two parts of their breakfast had a rather anticlimactic ending.

The lucky portion got cold.

The ill-fated end burned calmly at the stove.

It didn't really matter to Black Star, though.

He didn't pay attention to little things.

* * *

Ragnarok flexed a hand, his gaze on the ceiling. Having his own body still felt surreal, even after five years.

----------------------------------------------Flashbacku----------------------------------------------------------------

_It was dark._

_Chrona was on the ground, in a pool of black blood._

_Ragnarok had soon surmised that Medusa-sama's nee-chan was a bitch._

_She had done this to Chrona. _

_Ripped her soul to shreds_

_Chrona wasn't breathing._

_Was she dead?_

_If she was dead, shouldn't he be dead too?_

_He couldn't feel her soul._

_He'd never forgive the bitch if she died on him._

_She was his bitch._

_HIS._

_She couldn't die._

_There were various souls around._

_The forces of Shibusen were fighting Bitch-nee-chan's men._

_There was plenty of candy around too._

_Probably because of the fight._

_And a strange..._thickness _in the air that he didn't recognize. _

_It oozed power though._

_And he needed power. _

_An idea started to form._

_He reached for the thickness. It came._

_The thickness absorbs some candy. _

_Feet began to form from the black mass._

_It was still dark._

_Chrona still wasn't breathing._

_More candy came._

_Legs began to form._

_This..was this magic?_

_Not like Medusa-sama's..._

_Chrona._

_Her magic._

_Crude and unrefined, but it was still there._

_A torso, oooooh, he had a six-pack._

_The neck was a bit tricky. Sinew, bone, blood, throat._

_The head was simple._

_And just like that, Ragnarok was human._

_His skin wasn't black-black, rather a darker brown; mahogany, kinda like that gauntlet-user._

_Pupils were black, white slivers of 'X' adorning each._

_His hair was the same brilliant white, two long bangs intersecting each other across his forehead to continue the 'X' motif. _

_Chrona was still on the ground._

_He knelt near her and put a hand to her chest._

_His soul wavelength poured into her without preamble._

_This felt dangerous._

_He didn't care. _

_Torrents of energy surged into her body._

_She still wouldn't breathe._

_He removed his hand._

_He wouldn't forgive her if she died._

_His lips captured her's and the wavelength began to flow again._

_He felt light-headed now._

_But he didn't stop. _

_It got dark again._

_------------------------------------------Flashbacku endo-------------------------------------------------------------_

The two were found by Shibusen after the fight was over. Neither was breathing. They were both alive, though.

He had blood pumping in his veins, but his soul was a husk.

She was running off of soul wavelength alone, bloodless.

Kim and Stein were polite enough to pull them from the jaws of death.

After a little R&R, the two were taken in by Death the Kid, having nowhere else to go.

"You two need to learn how to become more human", he had said.

Ragnarok found it funny that something like that would come from a Shinigami.

Chrona didn't; she couldn't deal with irony.

Kidd taught them how to live over the course of four years, however. Ragnarok learned how it was to be human, and Chrona learned to deal with more stuff. Ragnarok had a bit of a temper, though. He made it a habit to pick fights with Kidd. Kidd was indifferent. The fights usually ended with Ragnarok bloody and bruised. Even unconscious on a few occasions.

Liz told Kidd that he was being too rough.

Patti giggled and cheered Ragnarok on.

Kidd retorted with saying that Ragnarok was a glutton for punishment, and that it was the only way for him to learn.

Ragnarok had no clue what a "Glutton for punishment" was.

Chrona thought that it vaguely reminded her of a masochist, but she couldn't deal with saying something so lewd.

The beatings continued for a few weeks until Kidd decided it was time for an intervention. Random haymakers and kicks copied off of t.v. shows would never hit a trained martial artist. Especially a perfect one. Kidd taught the Devil Sword how to fight. With the permission of Shinigami-sama, (who was incidentally the only person Ragnarok was scared of) Kidd taught Ragnarok the Stance of Sin and Stance of Punishment, the two rudimentary Shinigami Taijutsu. After Ragnarok got over how strange the fighting styles looked and got a good grasp of them, things changed. Their duels lasted longer, Ragnarok got less bloody, and, by the end, Kidd actually got hit. The two bonded, almost like brothers. His Meister and the other's Weapons were in on the bonding too, the five of them becoming something akin to a family. Kid taught them how to be human well. Ragnarok and Chrona weren't quite family, though. There was something a bit different...

"Ragnarok-kun!" The door to his, their, room busted open. The two had been sleeping together since they could remember, and Chrona couldn't handle, even after they split apart, to sleep alone. Ragnarok couldn't either, but no one knew that. Steam wafted into the room; she had just finished a shower.

"Eh?" His marred gaze cut from the ceiling to his Meister. She was clad only in a towel. She had inherited her mother's form, something that the towel made clear as it struggled to maintain what was hidden beneath. The pink mass of hair, the style she also copied from her mother, was sticking to her face and skin, still damp. The Weapon pretended to pay attention, enjoying the free show.

Heat lightly flushed her cheeks. It was from the bath, right? Why didn't she put any clothes on? She couldn't handle this. "Stripey-nii-kun is having a party later. Are we going?" She looked at him with expectant eyes. The towel continued to struggle.

He blinked once. "T'ch. Of course we are; that's a shitty question to ask." He hadn't been cured of his dirty mouth.

She knew how to deal with his language and beamed brightly, eyes closing in happiness. "'Kay!" The towel decided to resign. Somewhat-wet cotton floated to the ground.

Ragnarok stared. Twin rivulets of black ran from his nose.

Silence. His eyes traveled.

More silence. She wondered why it felt a little nippy all of a sudden.

"I told that Star-teme that pink was your natural hair color. Twenty bucks up my alley!" He gave her a thumbs up and a lecherous grin.

She blink, confused by his words. Was he bleeding? She couldn't handle him having an aneurysm...she looked down. Her cheeks flared red.

Natural instinct told Ragnarok it was a good idea to haul ass.

A screech of "HENTAI!" rocked their flat.

The Black Blood didn't save him this time.

* * *

Harvar D. Éclair took a glance at the mirror, deemed himself presentable, and looked away. He wasn't one for vanity. It wasn't a very logical thing. A sheet was the only thing he wore. This wasn't very logical either, but it couldn't be helped. He had stayed fit and in fighting condition, taking up Chinese boxing. His body was lean, muscles there, but not obnoxiously so like his partner. Liquid steel was a good term to use. Kinda like a cat. He had let his hair grow out over the years, and his once humble ponytail now resembled an angry dragon. Instead of flowing down his back, the long lock of ebony stopped mid-way and took a right turn. Then another. And another. Incidentally, he reminded himself that three rights made a left. The point was, that his hair now looked like a jagged lightning bolt that cloaked his body. Strangely enough without even touching it; it even reached his knees. Ox had once asked him if he used static to keep the hair at bay. He just smiled.

His eyes traveled to a prone Jacqueline O. Lantern Dupre. She was oversleeping. Again. He walked back to their bed, and gave her a light series of taps. No response. 'Oversleeping is illogical as well. Not only does it take away time that could be used to do something, but it also depletes an individual of the initial energy that waking up gives.' Without time and energy, work could not be done. Without things in a constant state of work, order could not be accomplished. Without order, illogical chaos would ensure. He didn't like illogical things. Incidentally, he prodded the sleeping Lamp Weapon again. No response. A harmless jolt of electricity throttled her awake.

"Har-kun?" She rubbed a bit of sleep from her eyes, sat up, yawned; things like that.

"You've been asleep twenty-minutes after eight", a pause. "Twenty-four." The vicious dragon that was his hair swayed indifferently.

She gave him an odd look, something she did often; he said such things often as well. She licked her lips as her gaze traveled to the single white sheet wrapped about his waist, knowing that it was the only thing covering the male. "You know..." Her arms folded across her chest, causing her bare breast to rise. "It's your fault I'm so burned out; I didn't get any sleep last night."

Harvar could've sworn he hear a purr in that last word. He smirked, two words rising from his throat. "I know."

"Come back to bed, Har-kun..."

"Get up, Jackie."

"We can oversleep every once in a while. I doubt we'd get much sleep, though..." A faux innocent face framed the seductive words.

The Éclair was glad he had such a strong will. Few could stand the spitfire licking at his psyche "We'll have tonight."

A pout. "Promise?"

A grin. "Promise."

"Your eyes look beautiful, Har-kun."

The Lance flushed a few shades red, fingers searching for his visor. "Shut up."

She giggled.

"It's your turn to wake them up."

Jackie's blood went cold. The four of them; she, Harvar, and Ox Ford and Kim Diehl, had moved in together in one large house. This was a tactical move. But then again...

Her dilemma was simple.

She and Harvar took turns waking the two up, both of them late sleepers, to Harvar's chagrin.

Waking them up wasn't a bad thing a first, all it took was a small jolt or a light burn.

The problem was that when they slept together, things got rather...

Messy, to keep things blunt.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" An innocent question.

"Kidd-san is holding a party later on today. You women take forever to prepare for social events." An honest answer.

No debate there.

She pulled out the puppy-dog eyes.

He didn't bat a lash.

"Can't you do it?"

"It's your turn."

They took turns tossing the verbal ball.

Finally, "Where are they this time? The new couch?" The old one had been burnt on a rather odd Saturday morning.

The Lance shook his head, hair-dragon shifting. "The hammock out back."

Jackie knew she'd regret it, but "Why outside? It's...outside."

Harvar quirked a brow at Captain Obvious. "The Lightning King performs better outside?"

"..."

"..."

"I'll put some clothes on." She sighed, contemplating burning the Meisters along with the hammock.

* * *

AN: Well now, wasn't that fun?  
That was the first part of a two-part  
Of reintroducing the Students of Shibusen.  
The party will commence after part two.

Well.  
Don't forget to R&R  
It makes me feel special.  
Really.  
Also, I have a goal of making it to at least thirty reviews.  
If such an event is to happen, I'll be happy to develop a little idea forming in the back of my head for another fic.

We'll see.


End file.
